


Lost & Found

by Drkzide (ff_fan)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Q, Extremely Underage, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Perhaps not so implied but not explicitly shown, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ff_fan/pseuds/Drkzide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a mission to take out a group of terrorists and the hacker that invaded MI6's system. James finds some he couldn't pull the trigger on. Now he will try to save the boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost & Found

**Author's Note:**

> Dragon_Fire has taken the time to proofread this and I would like to thank her for the time and effort involved.

'Simple. Bugger that!' James thought. Another fist impacted his bare stomach. He coughed, riding through the pain. Apart from the pain in his stomach his shoulders felt numb from the rope tied to a support beam that ran the width of the room holding his arms wide apart and supporting his full weight. His ankles were tied and pulled apart too, the position leaving James hanging limply in a strung up X shape.  
  
At least the big oaf was simple, even if his punches were like sledge hammers. A back hand had James seeing stars.  
  
There were no questions and James didn't yet know why they were keeping him alive. The boss, an old Russian Colonel had proudly announced before all of his goons, “You were sent to kill our hacker,” and he’d been right. He’d dictated James entire mission brief verbatim. Looking over his men the boss ordered no permanent injuries and 'James Bond, 007' was to be kept alive. With his parting order, “Have fun!” he left his men to it and walked away.  
  
James had been beaten to a pulp on the steps of what he hoped was the building he was now in. He remembered being dragged a long way then strung up. A sharp knife soon separated him from his combat gear. There’d been nothing James hadn’t experienced before. The Oaf, built like a brick shit house liked to use his fists. The Pervert, a little man with long wispy hair preferred sexual attacks. Black Eyes, a lean waif like man with long black hair had decorated James skin with lacerations. There was also one who liked to play with electricity but James hadn’t named him yet. It helped him detach from the pain and focus his thoughts.  
  
With a laugh to himself the Oaf pulled back James' head. The last view for James was the shaved head coming close very fast and then blackness as they connected.  
  
\--  
  
James was awake. He could hear the Oaf approaching, his lumbering feet like a giant trying to stomp minuscule villagers. James half expected him to start chanting, 'fee-fi-fo-fum' although the phrase might be too complex for the brain squeezed into the tiny round head.  
  
The slight drag of a foot on concrete also signified the approach of the one who liked a sexual element to his torture.  
  
Keeping his head hanging James made no indication he was aware of them. As James hoped the Oaf lifted him up as the Pervert started to untie him. James missed the opportunity last time, only waking half way through the process and the Oaf easily able to keep him still. He was going to be cleaned up a bit before the Pervert took his turn in torturing him.  
  
James' left wrist was untied, his arm fell to his side and he wanted to scream, the numbness vanished as tendons, muscle and bone competed to be the most painful. He tried to maintain the outward appearance of unconsciousness as he let out a moan. His other arm was released and the Oaf was now supporting his full weight. Left leg freed, James kneed the Pervert in the face.  
  
Shoulders and arms screamed in agony but James forced the lumbering bits of meat attached to his torso to act. Slipping out the Oaf's grasp he grabbed the giant man's face, forcing his thumbs into the eyes sockets. The big man knocked James off him like a rag doll then ran around the room bouncing off walls, holding his face.  
  
The pervert tried to scramble away, James lunged, his right leg pulling him to a stop. He managed to grasp the Pervert's ankle, deflecting the kick from the other leg. Pulling the Pervert close James was worried the screams and shouts would draw attention. With an almighty yank he brought the Pervert close enough to wrap and arm around his neck and squeeze.  
  
There was still no response as James untied his right foot. He was careful as he went to the Oaf who’d pulled himself in a whimpering ball next to the wall. The giant strong and once he was in grabbing range he needed to work quickly. Picking up a large piece of rubble James brought it down on the bald head.  
  
Dressed in the Pervert's khaki uniform James looked for their guns but neither had one. With one last look to the old room, only a single fluorescent tube lighting half of it, he headed out. A windowless corridor of peeling paint, broken walls and missing doors of the old factory ended in a staircase going up. James hadn’t noticed he was underground and finally understood why no one came.  
   
As he left the basement of the old factory the plans from his mission brief started to make sense. Following the stairs to the upper floors to the offices James could hear a group of voices from the corridor to the right. It had been suspected to be the control room and most likely location of the hacker was to the left. The satellite image had shown communication equipment on the roof with the cables going into a room in that direction.  
  
Deciding not to secure the area in case it started something he couldn't handle James headed for the control room. The corridor was long, narrow and dirty. It was dark, being windowless and the lights having no bulbs. Sticking his head into one of the passing offices, the broken window confirmed it was night as well. From an open door ahead James saw a low level of light being cast out off the room.  
  
Peeking round the corner into the room there were servers, racks and computers scattered about. A low hum from the fans masked the sound of his footsteps. In the exact centre three desks made a U shape. In the centre was a small person sitting on a chair, knees pulled up to its chin with its head resting on them. One hand tapped continuously on a keyboard as the other reached for a peeled and segmented orange sitting on the desk. James couldn't make out more than the dark almost black shoulder length hair or even tell if it was a boy or girl from the angle but it was definitely a child.  
  
Suddenly the CRT screen went blank. James saw his refection, the reflection of wide frightened eyes of a boy. The boy scrambled up and out of the chair, his back hit the desk he was hemmed in by. The boy stood frightened and motionless after the initial reaction.  
  
He couldn't be more than ten and small for his years. James saw a dark wet patch spreading out on the front of his dirty khaki shorts. Tears were starting to well in his big green eyes.  
  
Suddenly the boy's eyes flicked to something behind James, an impact and James' world started to grey. Just before it went black James saw the Colonel standing over him. Then another blow was coming and James couldn't react fast enough. Blackness enveloped him.  
  
When James woke again he was in the same room he was tortured in. This time instead of being strung up a chain wound around his left calf, a short length of chain then attached to a concrete pillar. Looking up to be met with the pale blue eyes, shaved head of blond/grey and the grizzled square jaw of the Colonel.  
  
“Thank you Mr Bond. You have now served your purpose, our hacker is terrified that he will be executed at any moment and only we can protect him. We are now waiting to see what the market value for a Double O is,” The Colonel said in a thick Russian accent, leaving with a little chuckle to himself.  
  
James shook his head at the mentality. He hated dealing with criminals he much preferred to just shoot them, preferably before they would talk. “Perhaps they're lonely” James mused and rolled onto his knees.  
  
Standing, he explored the radius he could travel from the pillar, about 1.5 meters. At least they’d cleared out the two bodies from earlier. After exhausting his attempts to force the padlocks or work his leg free from the coil of chain around it James sat with his back to the pillar he was tethered to.  
  
He started to think about the Boy, definitely the hacker he was sent to kill. The Boy was not the first to wet themselves or cry. Nor would he even be the youngest. There’d been a family, the youngest son was the target but no one could know that. James had done the deed. The scenario was murder suicide. The Father got the blame for killing his wife, three children and himself.  
  
'He was scared but prepared for death' James mused. James felt the same much of the time, he was frightened of dying but wouldn’t act to stop it if something more important was at stake.  
  
Looking round the room, the far half was bathed in darkness with the door onto the corridor across from him, and another hole for a door at the end of the room. The fluorescent tube above him was on constantly. James lost track of time. He’d been given two meals which meant it could be two days, two weeks or whenever someone remembered to feed him. The procedure was always the same, plodding footsteps heralded the arrival of the Cook. A tin plate was then tossed at him and a serving was dumped on it. When he was finished the first time James tried to goad the Cook into coming closer to get the plate. The next meal landed onto the dirty floor with a chuckle.  
  
James looked up. He was sure there had been a noise. For a moment he thought it was a rat. “I know you're there,” James called.  
  
When James looked at the doorless hole in the wall the Boy peeked from the side. Just one green eye and the right side of the boy's face was all James could see of him.  
  
They looked at each other. When the boy stepped out James schooled his expression carefully. The boy was nude. Recent red finger marks, older purple and even older yellow marks decorated his body. The finger marks concentrated around his narrow hips, wrists and neck.  
  
The boy stepped forward. As he closed in James saw dried fluids trailing down the inside of his legs. His red lips were also puffy, what James would call kiss swollen but didn't think kissing had anything to do with it.  
  
James had to look up as the boy stood in front of him. The Green eyes were dead and emotionless. When James had been given the assignment of assassinating a rogue terrorist cell with a primary target of its cyber terrorist James didn't think twice. Then he saw the Cyber Terrorist and froze. Now the Cyber Terrorist was standing in front of his assassin of his own free will and the assassin couldn't do it.  
  
James didn't know what language was the Boy's native tongue but his computer screen had been in English. “I'm not going to kill you.”  
  
In a blind rage the boy lunged at him. James easily caught the wrists crossing the boy's arms and pinning them to his chest. James then held his legs together with one of his own. The boy continued to struggle but it was useless, the fight leaving him as quickly as it started.  
  
James popped the buttons of the shirt he had taken from the corpse sliding it off his shoulders. He felt the boy tense as skin came into contact with skin. Then James guided the shirt onto the boy. It was oversized and covered him to mid thigh.  
  
James sat with the boy between his legs stroking the long thick hair to calm him until his fingers snagged on a cum tangled knot. Working the knot loose using his fingers James combed the hair until he could run his fingers through the thick mane.  
  
“Do you have a name?” James asked softly, as there’d been nothing in his mission brief on the hacker. A shake of the head was James' answer. “What do they call you?”    
  
When the boy spoke his voice was as dead as his eyes, with an English accent and a slight lisp to it. “Boy, Slut, bitch. There are foreign words as well. Why didn't you kill me you were ordered to?”  
  
James shrugged. “It didn't feel right.”  
  
James continued to stroke the dark hair for a while. The body reclined against him getting steadily heavier and more relaxed. When James leant to the side he could just make out the sleeping face.  
  
“Sleep well,” James muttered, getting an annoyed noise when he stopped stroking the hair.  
  
\--  
  
James woke at the first scrape of a shoe on the concrete floor. Waking the boy in his lap he indicated a door that led into a cupboard or something. No one ever came in or out of the room and James hadn’t bothered looking in his escape. He clamped a hand over the boy's mouth as frightened unfocused eyes snapped open. “Quickly, Go!” James whispered.  
  
The footsteps were getting louder as the boy stilled hearing them as well. Getting a nod James let go. The boy dropped the shirt and ran into the room. Quickly James was able to put the shirt on before whoever it was arrived.  
  
The short wide Cook entered. He plodded over to James and dropped a tin plate onto the floor, most of the thin gruel spilling out. He then turned and walked out. Hearing the heavy steps falling away, “He's gone,” James called.  
  
It was a few moments before a frightened green eye peeked round the corner of the door. “Breakfast?” James offered and indicated the tin plate.  
  
There was a shake of the head then the naked boy darted past and out. James listened, it still sounded like rats, the noise the boy made, quick and light with a slight scuttling. Picking up the plate James lifted it up to his lips drinking the very thin porridge mixture.  
  
Long after the Cook had picked up the plate and given James a bucket to relieve himself in he was left alone again. He was working on the padlock with a metal splinter he’d found lifting his head to the very light scuffing sound. “Is that you?”  
  
The boy came into the doorway dressed in a pair of shorts and t-shirt, still looking grimy underneath. Coming into the room he took a few cautious steps closer and held out his hand.  
  
James smiled at the half orange it contained. “You should eat it, you need the vitamins,” James said giving a soft smile. The hand withdrew and the boy looked hurt by the rejection.  
  
He was about to move away. “Wait,” James called.  
  
“Thank you,” he said indicating the fruit in the Boy's grasp. Again the boy held it out.  
  
Reaching over James plucked the orange from the upturned hand. Peeling off the remaining skin he then split it holding out a quarter back to the Boy eating one of his own segments as he did so. The boy took the few segments, pried them apart and took a small bite of the first.    
  
Ideas ran through James' head. The boy seemed free to roam the building. For some reason he was approaching him. James could see he wanted something perhaps both could get something out of it.  
  
Slowly the boy approached and sat in front of him.  
  
James stopped himself from cringing when the green eyes flicked to him. From the desire of death a few days ago James recognised the new look. He had seen it, used it before. Every wife, lover or mistress who was married to a dangerous person had it. They knew that they would never be free of their personal monster and could never stand against them. Scared and wanting to feel safe, James made sure they turned to him usually getting themselves killed in the process. Now this boy was looking for the same thing.  
  
Leaning back against the pillar he was tethered to James opened his arms. The boy scuffled forward and straddled his legs. Catching the hand that tried to go for his buckle James held the delicate wrists gently guiding the boy to lean against his chest. James started stroking the dark hair. “I'm not going to fuck you either,” he whispered feeling the boy tense.  
  
James could feel the hands of the boy. One was on his side, just below his ribs the other rested on his chest. Slowly the right hand on James chest started to slide down his body. “You're safe, rest,” James instructed softly. Again the boy tensed.  
  
“Still no name?” James asked stroking the long dark hair his fingers snagging in a crusty bit of dried fluid. Their hands briefly touched as the boy felt what James fingers snagged on. He brought the long strands forward so he could see them then scraped off the dried cum.  
  
As the boy hadn’t answered him and James objected to thinking of him as the ‘Boy’ he thought, “Well all the hackers I know are part of Q Branch. How about Little Q?”  
  
“Q is the common title for the Quartermaster. Not the hackers,” the boy responded.  
  
“Something else then?” James asked. There was a shrug as the boy remained silent. “Nice to meet you Little Q.”  
  
Like last time Q started to drift off in James' embrace. James fell into that restful state whenever he was on a mission. His mind and more importantly his hearing was still alert. It never satisfied his desire for sleep. It just allowed him to function. The boy gave a full body start, his green eyes panicked. He then seemed to remember where he was and relaxed a bit.  
  
Just as he reached the door, “Q,” James called when he had the boy's attention, “can you get me a paper clip or something?” James didn't want to push his luck or put the boy in danger.  
  
Q shrugged and walked out. Well twice sleeping in his lap was hardly a trusting relationship yet. Preparing for the boy's next visit James thought how he would bring up the idea of escape. Perhaps the boy would be willing to help if he knew James would take him too.  
  
\--  
  
'Bored, bored, bore...' James thought, several hours had passed or days and no meal. “Hello,” James said when he heard a scuffling that broke him out of his bored mantra. Looking up a head peaked round the corner then Q fully stepped into the room. He was holding a bundle of clothing and he looked much cleaner. His hair was shining and had volume. His face was free of dirt and grime. He walked passed James and into the other room. Hearing some scraping of heavy concrete on concrete, “What are you doing?” James called and received no answer. Q appeared a few moments later with empty arms.  
  
Coming over he held out another half orange and a paperclip. Thanking him James took both, immediately handing half the orange back. Wolfing down the quarter orange James got to work on the padlock. The paperclip bent so often it snapped.  
  
Giving up James looked to the silent Q. The boy was naked, his shorts and t-shirt pooled around him. His body was cleaner than the last time but he still had bruises marring his pale skin. “I wasn't refusing you because you needed a bath,” James said.  
  
Q's face started to crumble as his mouth dropped and tears filled his eyes. He ran. “Q!” James shouted after him.  
  
When James heard a noise later the heavy foot falls meant it wasn’t Q. Even footfalls indicated it wasn't the Cook either. Scrambling, James gathered the shorts and t-shirt that had been left behind wrapping them around his waist and pulling his shirt down to cover them. James made sure there was no obvious bulges before the Colonel arrived.  
  
The round faced and shaved head soon appeared at the door an unholy smile gracing his lips, showing missing and yellow teeth. “You’re going to make me a rich man Mr Bond, richer than I thought. Someone who was disappointed when General Medrano was prevented from taking office again wants you. Alas we will only have your company for a few more days.”  
  
“You're assuming I'm staying that long,” James mused. The Colonel chuckled, he’d just wanted to gloat and when he’d said his piece he walked away.    
  
James was feeling tired. It could mean it was night or just the out of whack rhythms. The single florescent tube continued to hum quietly, permanently on in the windowless room. When Q returned he was frightened, naked and no longer clean. Fresh bruises and cum still smeared his body and face. He approached James falling to his knees and crawling the last few paces. His big green eyes open and frightened, “Please?” he begged.  
  
Cupping his cum smeared cheek, “Why is this so important? If you help me escape you can come with me,” James said. He could see the boy was on the verge of shattering and for some reason getting him to fuck him had a point. James suspected the boy felt he needed to pay for the protection James could offer.  
  
“Vesper Lynd, Camille, Strawberry Fields, Severine, Madeleine Swann. One key point of all your missions. You only try to protect the girl. Do you know they are called Bond Girls at MI6?”  
  
James stilled at Q’s words. He knew the hacker had accessed MI6 that was why he was sent here but to have this boy know him. Only M had ever remarked on his conquests. “I'll protect you,” James assured.  
  
“Psychological report  PR-007-99: 'I am concerned Double O Seven cannot separate his emotions when he is sexually involved with someone. The remarked coldness, I believe to be a coping mechanism to mask genuine and deep emotional pain. I suspect there is a deeply suppressed desire to love and be loved'. Report commissioned by M, conducted by Dr Corder after the death of Vesper Lynd.”  
  
There it was again, James understood his motivation. The boy thought he would love him if they had sex. A person in love would be willing to fight and die for him. It was a fairytale. James pulled Q into his lap and held him close. “The report isn't accurate. I did mourn those women but apart from Vesper and Madeleine I didn't love them. I loved M she was more a father to me than I ever had. I will protect you, sex will not make me more motivated.”  
  
Q hiccupped and cried trying to run again, this time James didn't let him. When Q had stopped fighting and only sobbed quietly, “You could come home with me. We could be a family.”  
  
Slowly the tear stained face turned to him and James wiped this cheeks. Q continued to look at him with hollow eyes. James pulled him close again and started to stroke the long hair until Q reluctantly relaxed. Again James leaned to the side to see Q’s eyes closed and the soft regular breaths.  
  
When Q woke and pulled himself up James pulled out the shorts and t-shirt he’d left last time. Up and dressed, just before he went through the door James called to him, “I do wish to take you home, we would love a son.”  
  
Q looked at him with blank eyes before turning and leaving. He returned far quicker than James expected him to, it couldn't have been more than a few hours. “Hello,” James called.  
  
Q stood peeking round the door, “Promise?”  
  
James smiled, “Absolutely, I would love to take you home.”  
  
Q nodded and vanished again.  
  
There was a meal in between the last visit and Q's return. He was thankfully dressed again but far dirtier, at least this time it wasn't body fluids. There was grime on his face, his hair looked to have mud in it and had matted slightly, also a slight smell from him. James wondered if this was to discourage the mercenaries.  
  
In Q's arms he had a bundle of clean clothes, a bottle and what looked like a small bar of soap. He bypassed James and went directly into the store room. Hearing scraping from inside the room James called, “What are you doing?”  
  
James wasn't sure if Q was going to ignore him again. “Hiding supplies,” Q said coming back out. He then came over and waited close to James until he opened his arms. Q sat across James' lap and held out a whole orange. James peeled it and they shared the segments until Q had to go.  
  
“Can you get me the key?” James asked rattling his chain for good measure.  
  
Q stopped, looking from James to the chain and nodded. “I will.”  
  
James could hear the determination in the boy's voice. He smiled again and Q returned it.  
  
James sat nervously concerned how Q would be getting the key. Plodding footsteps heralded the arrival of some gruel and a bucket to piss in before the Cook lumbered away again. James was a little curious, assuming one meal a day the few more days the Colonel had said should have passed by now.  
  
Heard scuffling, faster than usual. “Hello.” James called.  
  
Q came in with his arms full at least he was still clothed. A set of keys fell from his grasp, “They’re for the Jeep not your padlock,” he informed. Picking up the keys he headed through the other door. Concrete scraped then scraped again. He then came out and up to James.  
  
There was a shy smile that lit up Q’s face. The boy held up an orange for him, as he did the other times James kept a quarter for himself and gave the rest to Q.  
  
While James ate the orange Q slid up to his side wrapping arms around his waist. James started stroking the long hair, “I'll protect you,” he whispered.  
  
Q's breathes slowed and his body relaxed. When he woke, Q pulled away reluctantly and stood. James waved just as the boy vanished round the frame of the door.  
  
“Hello,” James called at the familiar scuffling what he thought to be a few hours later. Apart from a new knot of cum matted hair over his right eye that made James rage bubble up, wanting to burn the world, there appeared no other change. James suddenly noticed a familiar silhouette in the front waistband of the boy's shorts.  
  
Lifting his shirt James' heart stopped a moment at his suspicion being confirmed. The boy pulled out the gun and handed it to him with a brilliant smile. James' heart sank the magazine was empty as was the chamber. “Just need some bullets and we're ready to go,” James said. Although he was keeping his tone natural the boy looked like he was about to cry.  
  
Holding his arms open Q came to sit in his lap. “You did good,” James said and stroked  his back.  
  
“I can hide that for now,” Q said pointing to the gun.  
  
As it was useless James handed it over for the boy to hide in the adjoining room. Following some scraping Q reappeared. With a wave he exited the other door and James listened to his feet as he scuffled along the corridor beyond.  
  
Scraping and scuffling alerted James. At first he didn't recognise the sound of Q's footsteps, then they hesitated until James called, “Q?”  
  
Only once he heard James call did Q come round the corner. James buried the rage and anger at seeing the boy nude again. His hair had been washed since the last time he visited but there were fresh bruises around his hips and he was leaking down his legs. Q's arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were hollow.  
  
On bare feet Q stepped forward opening his arms. Bullets of different varieties started falling. Then James was presented with a clenched fist, the fingers almost completely white. Q needed his other hand in order to help pry it open. In the revealed palm was a ring with two keys. There were also weeping crescent marks from where the nails had been digging in.  
  
James plucked the key out of his palm and massaged his fingers. Q must have been keeping the fingers clenched for hours for them to seize so completely. He whined as James forced the muscles to relax and return the full circulation.  
  
When Q could flex his fingerers again he pulled his hand from James' grasp and headed for the adjoining room. Meanwhile James tried the first key on the padlock securing the chain around his leg. It refused to turn so he tried the other. The lock popped open and James unwound the chain.  
  
Picking through the assorted ammunition James came up with three 9mm rounds. Leaving the other rounds he pushed himself up walking to the door at the side of the room. Q was in front of the collapsed far wall that separated the store room from the room next door. He was trying to move a lump of concrete about a foot square and thick from the top of the mound.  
  
“Let me,” James said suspecting that was Q's hiding place for his supplies. Q stood back and James gripped the lump of concrete pulling it aside. There in the space behind were the amassed items. “You've been planning this,” James mused picking the gun off the top.  
  
Q darted to the revealed space grabbing a bottle of water. He poured some on his hands and using the thin sliver of soap he cleaned himself off. James watched the quiet determination as Q washed the cum of however many men from his arse and legs.  
  
Pulling out the clean shorts and t-shirt Q dressed. Coming up to James Q held out a set of keys. James grasped them leading him back into the room they’d been held in. He went to the hole where a door once stood, peeking out past the light flooding from the room revealed a long and almost pitch black corridor with a lit stairwell at the end.  
  
Looking to Q noting he was still bare foot but his green eyes shone with determination. “Ready?” James asked and got a nod in return.  
  
“Hold these,” James said holding out the car keys. When the Boy took them, “How many are there?”  
  
“Seven.”  
  
James nodded and made sure the boy was following him. As they climbed the stairs Q made a noise when they reached the first landing and indicated a corridor. “I need to complete my mission I can’t let this cell survive. Go, I'll come when I'm finished.”  
  
Q looked scared then slowly walked along the corridor disappearing round a corner, his feet making the scuffling sound James had come to associate with his presence.  
  
James continued up the stairs and out into the corridor he had been in when he first tried to go for the hacker. Last time he avoided going right, now in the darkness it was silent. James came to what once would have been a communal office now a large space with black windows along the left, bunk beds, tables and a small makeshift kitchen with camping stove.  
  
There was snoring from various areas. The dim moonlight from the windows gave just enough light to reveal the Cook asleep slumped at a table with an empty vodka bottle tipped over in his weak grasp. He didn't stir as James wrapped his arm around his neck and with a yanking twist, broke it.  
  
Finding a combat knife on the table he tested its edge smiling, the honed blade was as sharp as he’d hoped for.  
  
Approaching the row of bunk beds he aimed for the bottom of the first. James recognised the man who liked to play with the battery and jump leads passed out, his limp cock sticking out of his trousers. A deep quick slash separated the man from his life. The man in the top bunk also got a red smile for his trouble.  
  
Six down and everyone in the room dead. James moved to the door on the far side of the room. It was the first and only door James had seen in the derelict factory. It was only ply board without a handle and scraped as he pushed it opened.  
  
The weak light illuminated a makeshift desk, just a board across two saw horses and an occupied camp bed. The Colonel lay on his stomach, naked from the waist down.  
  
Stepping on something soft James looked down to see a pair of shorts that Q usually wore. Darting out the way just as the colonel fired James swore. Unusually in his sudden anger he’d missed the man had woken, probably from the door opening.  
  
Scrambling James returned fire. There was a cry of pain as the Colonel rolled off the cot. There was a trail of blood but James was faster, another shot and the man slumped back. James made sure that he’d never recover from the wound in his leg and chest by adding one to the middle of his forehead.  
  
Taking the Colonel's gun for good measure he exited into the communal room and returned to the ground floor. Following the corridor Q went down he felt the temperature drop and flowing air. About halfway along there were two double doors hanging off their hinges. Stepping through he took a deep inhale of the fresh air, just a hint of oil and other industrial scents hung in the area.  
  
The clear stars were lessening in the approaching dawn. On the forecourt of the administration building of the old soviet era factory stood three old jeeps parked at the bottom of the steps. Trotting down James looked into the canvas covered back, nothing.  
  
“Q,” James called pulling his head out. A thump from the Jeep to the right and a head poked out of the window. Smiling James came round to the driver's side and jumped in. The key was in the ignition, Q sat in the passenger seat biting his lip and looking a little scared. Ruffling his hair James turned the key and gunned the engine. Gravel flew as he pulled out the factory and sped along the desolate country road.  
  
\--  
  
The marble and gilded interior of the hotel was just as James remembered. The doorman looked at him in concern but wouldn’t stop him until he was told it was not just a guest having a bad day, which in this case it was. Q tucked under James' arm, his green eyes wide as saucers looking round the five star hotel lobby.  
  
The concierge looked at James a moment then plastered a pleased smile on his face. “Welcome back Mr Bond.”  
  
“My usual room and I left a case,” James said. The hotel was used often by MI6 and knew to ask no questions or inconveniences like proof of identity.  
  
James was handed his key as the concierge brought out a briefcase for him. “Food, maybe burger, pizza or something similar and oranges. I also need a tailor, have him bring something suitable for a small 10 year old boy as well,” James instructed.  
  
Leading Q to the lift at the side of the lobby the bellboy in the lift looked James and the boy over as they approached. James noticed him meet eyes with the concierge. As soon as they were inside the bellboy didn't hesitate to close the door and pull the lever. The gilt metal cage trundled up to the third floor.  
  
Entering his suite James had forgotten there was only one bed, it dominated the left wall. Shaking his head it didn't matter, he planned on being out of here as quickly as possible. James opened the case, to search for the phone. “Pull your hair off your face and stand here,” James said softly and knelt down.  
  
Q stood where James indicated, back against the white wall with his hair swept back. Using the phone James took a photo. “Go have a shower,” James suggested to Q. The boy nodded and headed for the door James indicated.  
  
Dialling the number, there was a single ring and then Tanner answered. “Mission accomplished. Require transit home for myself and one other, non priority but ASAP. I’m accompanying a child approximately 10 years old. Recommended a family relationship. Uploading passport photo now,” James ordered pulling the phone from his ear he then sent the photo to Tanner.  
  
“Very good Double O Seven. I'll contact you with the arrangements,” Tanner responded and James hung up.  
  
A knock from the door and James let in the bell Boy with the tray of food. There was a bottle of whisky and glass of coke beside the large round pizza. “Food,” James called. Q popped his head out of the bathroom in his shorts and t-shirt, his clean hair hanging long and damp.  
  
James grabbed a slice of pizza and ate quickly. He then headed for the bathroom. Stripping off he entered the shower washing the dried blood from the man who liked to play with knives, inspecting the burn marks from the one who liked to play with electricity. He moved on to delicately clean his arse where the pervert had used a night stick. Finishing he came out of the glass enclosed and marble lined cubicle.  
  
In the mirror the right side of his face was blotchy and yellow. His torso was also covered in bruises from the Oaf.  “Medical and psych aren’t going to be fun,” James complained to his reflection, already able to hear the snarky comments about using his face to block every punch going that hid real affection and concern.  
  
Pulling on the robe he entered the room. Q had abandoned the pizza after one slice and moved onto an orange. James picked up another slice and ate it more sedately.  
  
Another knock and Q froze with panic in his eyes. “It's alright,” James reassured and pulled the door open.  There was a tall gaunt man with a pencil thin black moustache just above his lip. James stood back and allowed the tailor in. A man followed him pulling a clothes rail with garment bags hanging from it.  
  
“We only have formal wear, Mr Bond,” the tailor said and pulled out small suit. “We have a jumper to make it look more casual,” he said as his assistant handed over a thin V-neck.  
  
“It will do,” James said. The assistant set up a station at the desk preparing to do the immediate alterations required.  
  
With encouragement James got Q to try different trousers. He however refused to let the tailor do more than take a visual assessment of the fit. When it was James' turn he let the tailor measure and mark out the alteration.  
  
Soon James was in a light grey suit, white shirt and pale blue tie. Q stood beside him in dark trousers, white shirt without a tie and a V-neck jumper under a short double breasted coat with lapels.  
  
Thanking the tailor and showing him out. James looked to Q who was turning slowly looking at himself in the mirror. “Well, just Tanner, the debrief then home,” James said and the big green eyes looked at him.  
  
\--  
  
James approached the British Airways desk and inserted his MI6 issue Credit Card into the automated kiosk.  The machine printed off the tickets, lifting the flap to take them out the rigged machine also issued the prepared passports.  
  
James checked over his, 'Richard Sterling' with his son 'Marcus Sterling' from the picture taken in the hotel room. Nodding James extended his hand for Q to take and headed for the check-in desks.  
  
Sitting in the plane, Q on the inside looking out the window James had a hand on his neck stroking him. Occasionally Q would turn and look at him, bite his lip and then look outside again. He still hadn’t said anything since their escape.  
  
When they landed M was waiting on the gangway surrounded by MI6 personnel. They arrived at the new MI6 built on the footprint of the original. Since the utter failure of the Joint Security Service Mallory now ruled an independent MI6 again.  
  
As they entered Eve raised an eyebrow at James and the boy clasping his hand. Beside her was a frumpy little lady in a tight skirt suit with narrow glasses halfway down her nose. Keeping her knees together she squatted down so she was at eye-level with Q. “Hello, I'm Ms Frost.”  
  
Q moved behind James and hid from her. James didn't blame him Ms Frost was one of those forthright women who tried to do the right thing by people but couldn't convey maternal compassion very well.  
  
Kneeling down James looked to Q. “I need to answer questions so do you. Just tell the truth and we’ll see each other after. Eve will stay with you,” James said. He flicked his eyes from Q to M then Eve making sure they understood James expected to see Q immediately after and that Eve was to sit with him. He held M's gaze and waited until he nodded once.  
  
Eve stepped forward giving a brilliant smile and held out her hand to Q. “He hasn't told me a name so I've been calling him Little Q, Q for short,” James said to her.  
  
“Hello Q,” Eve said.  
  
James smiled but Q looked worried. He shook his head and James had to rein in the desire to walk out with the child. He needed to do this professionally and properly if he hoped to keep Q. “The quicker we do this the quicker we can go home,” James said. There were watery eyes and a downturned mouth. James then placed Q's hand in Eve's, giving the woman a warning glare that he would hold her responsible.  
  
Medical and James played nice as he was given a physical. He was then taken to a white tiled room, a single chair a distance from a table with a chair and two way mirror behind it.  He sat in the lone chair facing the table, chair and mirror. A technician removed his jacket and shirt. Pads and a strap were placed on his chest to measure his rate of breathing. The leads were then plugged into the sockets on the chair. James' hands were strapped down so the fingers were flush to a panel on the arm rest that would record perspiration. Behind the glass M and a team would be monitoring the interview. Cameras would be used to track pupil dilation and fluctuations in body heat. There would be microphones picking up voice stress.  
  
James just hoped Eve and Ms Frost were making sure the team debriefing Q were not having such an easy time of it.  
  
In came an apparently absent minded grandfather like man in tweed suit. James remembered watching an episode of Columbo, the man had a similar style of just having a chant, blaming his memory when things didn't add up then pouncing on an inconsistency and tearing apart the entire story with it. Unlike people like M or the Quartermaster, all those who conducted the interviews were called Inquisitor or I for short not just the head of the Branch.  
  
“Good day Double O Seven I trust you are well?” I said politely and laid out his documents. The blue eyes behind thick square glasses flicked up to James.  
  
“Better than yesterday,” James mused.  
  
“We will come to yesterday soon enough,” he said and sat. “If you are ready, Double O Seven let us begin.”  
  
James started from the point he landed in Estonia and headed over the Russian border where the old Russian black ops unit had gone rogue and set themselves up as cyber terrorists. Russia hadn’t cared because they never targeted Russia so when MI6 had an incursion into its system MI6 decided to neutralize them. He went on to describe how they had been expecting him and knew his mission brief. How they tried to use him to terrify the hacker into submission and how that hacker had been the one to facilitate his escape. James left nothing out about himself or Q.  
  
“The boy, what are your intentions?” I asked.  
  
“I want to be his father,” James said. I nodded and started to pack up. James knew he had been playing nice but he thought the session would still have lasted a bit longer.  
  
“You will be unplugged but remain here until further notice,” I ordered.  
  
James was allowed to replace his shirt and jacket, using the mirror to cheekily fix his tie in place. He was left lone for some time. He sat at the table and looked to the chair he was usually sitting in, paced the room then sat on the table.  
  
The door clicked open and Ms Frost came in with a file under her arm. “You wish to take the child known as Q home?” she said briskly.  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Do you foresee any problems?”  
  
“Many. We will however understand and know all he’s been through. No foster parent will be allowed to know his full story, he won’t be able to tell them, secrets upon more secrets can't be good for him in the long run,” James said.  
  
Ms Frost nodded handing over a form. “You will be given temporary custody pending a full assessment before you can adopt him.”  
  
James signed it and handed it back.  
  
Ms Frost opened the door and Eve entered with the boy clinging to her hand, the moment he saw James he ran to him. James scooped him up and Q’s limbs wrapped round his waist and neck like a limpet. “Home,” James said and there was a nod against his shoulder where Q was resting his head.  
  
Eve held up a set of keys. “I didn't think you would want to linger.”  
  
“Thanks,” James said and took them. Eve walked with them through the building and into the car park. Seeing his Aston Martin James unlocked the passenger door first depositing his precious bundle. Eve stepped up to the window and gave a wave to the boy, he returned it without enthusiasm.  
  
James drove through the late evening traffic of London. Pulling to a stop he noticed the second floor bay window was lit. Looking beside him Q had dozed off. James slid and arm under Q's legs and lifted the dead weight, cradling the boy against him with Q's head resting in the crook of his neck.  
  
Opening the communal door to a hall way with a door either side and a staircase at the back James headed upstairs. James slid his key into the door on the left, the smell of cooking filled his nostrils making his stomach groan for the taste of home.  
  
He followed long narrow hall to its opening onto kitchen area. A man with wild hair was moving about the kitchen dressed in muted tartan trousers and a grey cardigan. “Q,” James called.  
  
The man turned and James was briefly met with hazel eyes behind heavy framed glasses. The eyes then latched on to the boy still slumbering against James' shoulder. “I know we were planning on adopting a baby but little Q here needs a home,” James said softly.  
  
Q stepped round the breakfast bar his eyes still fixed on the boy. James reached and placed a hand on the side his neck, a thumb stroking just below this ear. “Q?”  
  
Q's eyes snapped to James again. He nodded, it was a surprise, definitely not the baby he’d imagined but if things went well there would be more anyway. The hand on his neck pulled him in to close the distance and their lips met briefly. When Q pulled back he was met with green eyes fluttering open and looking at him.  
  
“Little Q, Big Q. Big Q, little Q,” James introduced. Hesitantly the child lifted a hand from between James and himself and offered it to the new person.  
  
Taking the hand, “It's nice to meet you Q,” The Quartermaster said.  
  
-1 Year Later-  
  
The family court, Big Q, Little Q and James sat together all dressed in their best suits. The Judge in just a normal suit looked over the recommendation, interviews and assessments from Ms Frost who was in attendance.  
  
The Judge, a silver haired man with a sagging face and pale blue eyes looked to the three. “Are you happy in this home? This decision can only be overturned in special situations that I doubt will occur,” he asked the boy.  
  
Nodding, his voice firm, “Yes! I'm happy with James and Danny,” Little Q said with a slight hissing lisp.  
  
The judge nodded. “Based on the recommendations of Social Services and my personal interview with Mr Bond, Mr Holt and Child Q I am awarding custody of Child Q to James Bond and Daniel Edward Holt. I believe you will be known as Quinn Holt-Bond?”  
  
“Yes,” Quinn replied.  
  
“Congratulations and I wish all three of you well,” the Judge said.  
  
Q and James pulled little Q into a hug between them. “Dads,” he whined as he was squished.


End file.
